Chapter Eighteen
June 2016
Lydia resolutely refused any subtle suggestion from Anita that she should keep her distance from Theo, that she could take it from here. Instead, Lydia hired a car every weekend following her initial visit to the care home.
As the spring months rolled on, the June summer solstice passed and the flowers in full bloom marked the start of July, the time when many people jetted off on their annual summer holidays. Theo was much the same, still in a persistent vegetative state, a description Lydia would rarely use out loud. He was there, but not really there; existing, but not living. Lydia corresponded with Anita as briefly as possible, conveying information on the times she’d be visiting, days she’d be around in Suffolk and days when she’d be safely tucked away in Bath so Anita could rule the roost as she so loved to do. Lydia found a gorgeous bed and breakfast with the most delightful of hosts, and each time she came to see Theo, she’d look for changes. But apart from him looking thinner and his hair still in the ridiculous boyish cut he was regularly given, he was the same. No change.
Graham had been over for a fortnight’s visit but Lydia hadn’t crossed paths with him. Since she’d found out about Christopher, Lydia thought about Graham and Anita in a slightly different light. They were two parents facing a crisis, an unimaginable pain, and it wasn’t for the first time. She’d thought about contacting Graham, but had decided against it, respecting his likely need to work through this on his own. She didn’t want to meddle, she didn’t want him to see her pass judgement on the decisions Anita was making.
When she was home in Bath, Lydia took to hibernating and not socialising with anyone. She hadn’t gone out with Sally in weeks and Sally had been round to the house on more than one occasion to see whether she was okay. Each time Lydia had plastered a smile on her face and insisted she was fine, and although Sally surely knew she was lying, Lydia just wanted to be left alone. Her mind didn’t have room for much apart from work, fixing meals and keeping up with the housework. Up until now she’d dusted around the things on Theo’s bedside table – two one pound coins probably pulled from his trousers before they went into the bag for dry cleaning, a thriller with the bookmark in the same place as it had been months ago – but when she knocked the book off and the bookmark tumbled out, losing his place, she cried in a ball on the floor before pulling herself together and finally tidying his things away into the drawer. At least that way she didn’t have to look at them, wondering whether he’d ever touch them again. Last night had been the first time her body had ventured onto his side of the bed and she’d woken with the gnawing feeling that every time life moved on of its own accord, she would feel as though she was being torn apart all over again.
One weekend on her way back from the care home, the events that had unfolded since December hit Lydia like a head-on collision: unexpected, with no warning at all. An overwhelming feeling of devastation, a contrast to the bright, cheerful sun in the sky that day, took over, and she had to pull in at the side of the road when tears blurred her vision. Nothing had changed with Theo, but that day something within her broke as she said goodbye yet again and out of nowhere she began grieving properly, for the life she’d led before the accident, for the boyfriend she’d once had. When she got home she phoned work and said she was sick and wouldn’t be back for a while. She barely got out of bed for the next few days, she wasn’t eating, she was losing weight, and it was only one rainy day when Sally knocked at the door and burst into tears herself, that Lydia realised she needed to get her act together.
The two friends cried, they hugged, they laughed when they could, they ate and Lydia returned to work by the end of the week where she was plunged into the office environment full steam ahead with her research on interrailing through Europe. Sally had talked a lot of sense and Lydia felt comforted, not alone, and she sailed through her days at work, sifting through the plethora of information she’d collected from contacts in Italy, France and Spain, finally pulling together a meaningful article she was proud of.
She was about to click out of her email and check the rest later when one email in particular caught her eye. It was from Connor. And all it said was ‘Are you okay?’
Lydia sat back in her chair and looked over at Ian’s office, glass walls allowing her to see him pondering something at his desk. He wouldn’t have said anything to Connor about Theo, would he? And did he know that Connor had kissed her on the night out a while ago? And how had Connor got her email address?
The ping of another email made her jump and spooked her because it was another from Connor asking her out for lunch.
She went back to the interrailing write-up and ran a spellcheck, then she made a cup of tea, but after half an hour knew she was being rude to not even acknowledge the email and so typed out a short reply saying that she couldn’t meet him as she had too much work on. But it seemed he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The next email came through so quickly she wondered if he’d anticipated her reply and already typed his response, which said that everyone needed to eat. In the end, Lydia gave up fighting it and decided it would be better to see him now, when she expected it, than bump into him in the street, or worse, have him come into the office for some reason to see Ian and then her face would give everything away.
They agreed to meet at Pret A Manger, buy sandwiches and go over to the park and as Lydia walked there she found she was actually looking forward to it. It was a lunch with someone new, with someone who hopefully didn’t know her whole sorry story, and that alone would be refreshing.
She was first at the sandwich place and had already bought a mature cheddar sandwich with pickle and fresh tomatoes, so she waited outside in the sunshine for Connor to choose something. She watched him as he progressed forward in the queue, quite dashing in a well-cut suit, his blond hair neatly cropped but not enough to make him look old, just enough to be office-ready. His skin was more tanned than the night they’d met at the bar and as he paid for his order and emerged into the bright sunlight, he pulled shades down across those mischievous blue eyes of his.
They chatted as they walked and Lydia was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t at all awkward. She asked after his new niece and he extolled the virtues of being an uncle. Apparently it had all of the nice bits and none of the hard work. She asked why he was in a suit and he told her he worked temporarily as a telemarketer until he could find a suitable position as a vet. ‘It’s boring as hell,’ he said, ‘but I need the cash.’
When they reached the park they nabbed an empty bench and sat next to each other at one end, avoiding the bird poo at the other.
‘So…’ He unwrapped his sandwich. ‘I haven’t bumped into you in All Bar One again since that night.’
She felt her cheeks warming. With her dark skin it was pretty hard to tell if she was blushing, but all she could think about when he mentioned it was the kiss. ‘I’ve not been out much lately.’
‘Avoiding lecherous men like me?’
She laughed. ‘Not at all, and you’re not lecherous.’ She hooked her hair behind her ears so she didn’t get a mouthful of it as she ate her sandwich. It was a beautiful sunny day but there was a definite breeze on the air that was pleasant but not completely conducive to eating outside. ‘Just out of interest, how did you get my email address?’
‘It wasn’t hard.’
‘Did you ask Ian for it?’
‘I looked on the website and under employees it has your full name, so I used Ian’s email address but substituted his name for yours and bingo. Would you rather I hadn’t got in touch?’
‘Not at all. This is nice.’
‘How was your head the morning after the night at the bar?’
‘A bit sore. It was the champagne and the dreaded mixing of drinks.’
He nodded and he picked up the other half of his sandwich. ‘It had to be done and I never drink champagne with the lads.’
‘No, not the sort of round you’d buy, is it?’
‘So what else have you been up to? Ian can’t have kept you that busy at work, so you must’ve been doing other things.’ The way he said it suggested Ian hadn’t divulged anything and she was glad.
‘Oh this and that, you know how it is.’
